In the Shadow of the Sphinx
by RevSue
Summary: Nanny is less than impressed by the Professor's house guest ... what if he should recognize her?


_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and I make no money from this work of fiction!_

In the Shadow of the Sphinx

Nanny was busy putting supper on the table when suddenly she stopped, and her face paled. "Oh, dear me!" she exclaimed.

"What is it, Nanny?" Prudence asked. Butch and Hal looked at her curiously as well.

She seemed to make a great effort, and shook off her unease. "Oh, nothing," she said, carrying the potatoes over from the stove.

Then she went to the phone, which rang as she reached for it. Hal and Butch rolled their eyes at each other, and Prudence giggled.

"Yes, Professor?" Nanny answered rather primly, and Hal, watching her closely, saw her eyes darken as his father spoke. In a composed voice, she said, "I hardly think I have the power to veto such an invitation, Professor. It is not my house, after all! I see. So it has been some years since you have seen him? Perhaps it might be better to, well, get re-acquainted before ... I see." She listened in silence for a moment longer, then murmured goodbye and hung up.

"What'd he say?" demanded Butch, through a mouthful of beef and potato.

"You really shouldn't eat with your mouth full, Butch." Nanny said severely, coming back to earth. Then she added, "Your father is bringing an old friend home with him later tonight."

"The journalist, Mr. Jones?" asked Hal. "Dad has been talking about him all week, since he heard he was coming to town to do a series of guest lectures at the university. They roomed together in college, did you hear Dad say that?"

"Yes." Nanny said, briefly.

"You don't usually mind if Dad has people in," Hal remarked, eying her intently.

For a fourteen year old, he was remarkably perspicacious, Nanny thought absently. In this case, she DID mind -- very much indeed. Since the Professor had first mentioned Thomas Jones' arrival in California after being out of the country for seventeen years, Nanny had been trying subtly to steer the Professor away from his thoughts of inviting his college roommate to stay the week with them. Obviously it hadn't worked. Now her thoughts were racing frantically trying to figure out what she could do to ensure that the visitor didn't recognize her when he arrived with the Professor later that evening! The Professor hadn't noticed her strange reluctance to welcome his colleague, and had even laughed when telling Nanny that although Tom Jones might have shared the name and the charisma of the famous Welsh singer, he didn't have the voice for it! The Professor had laughingly added that Tom could have had almost any woman he wanted at college, and he probably hadn't changed much since then.

"Yet not all the women on campus fell under his spell," Nanny had commented in reply. "Marrijane was certainly more taken with you, Professor."

"Well, THAT'S true! Marrijane always said he seemed oily and smarmy underneath. Never did understand what ... wait a minute, Nanny, how did you know that? I am SURE Marrijane never mentioned his name when she was here!"

"It stands to reason, Professor. Marrijane was YOUR college sweetheart, wasn't she?" and Nanny had turned away, indicating that the subject was closed.

Now Nanny found herself wondering what to do and say for an entire week in the same house as Tom Jones. What if, as seemed most likely, he should remember her? She tried to tell herself that it had all happened close to seventeen years ago, and he couldn't possibly have retained any memory of such an obscure moment in time. Still the worry and the questions niggled, no matter how hard she tried to squash them down. Somehow she had the feeling that Tom Jones would recognize her as the young woman he had kissed and lost in the shadow of the Sphinx seventeen years ago!

It was a couple of hours later when the Professor and his friend came home. Nanny stood back in the shadows of the living room while he was introduced to the children, then the Professor beckoned her forward and introduced her to the tall, handsome, blonde man at his side. Tom Jones peered intently at her when he was introduced, and Nanny felt her heart sink. If he didn't remember her now, it would not be long.

He clasped her hand, absently saying hello, then still staring fixedly at her, he added, "Have we met somewhere before, Miss Figalilly?"

Nanny disengaged her hand and murmured something about getting the children to bed before turning away. The Professor laughed and said teasingly, "That's a fairly old gambit, isn't it, Tommy boy?"

Tom shrugged, "Well, Ev, some things just don't change ..." but his speculative eyes followed Nanny as she shooed the children ahead of her out of the living room.

Somewhat surprised when Nanny didn't return to offer them tea or coffee, the Professor excused himself shortly and hurried upstairs to say goodnight to Prudence. Encountering Nanny in the hallway, he was about to ask for some coffee when she said, "The extra bed is made up in your room for Mr. Jones. I do believe I'm going to go to bed early tonight, Professor. I hope you don't mind."

"No, no, not at all," he said, surprised and solicitous. "Are you feeling all right, Nanny?"

"Just a little tired, Professor," she replied. He could see a trace of strain and tension in her eyes before she looked away. "The coffee is ready in the kitchen. A storm is coming up and the power is likely to go out momentarily, so I made it early. I've put candles and matches by the coffee pot."

"Thank you, Nanny," he said, not even bothering to ask how she knew about the storm and the power outage. "Are you SURE you're all right?"

"I'll be fine, Professor," she said.

"Is the wind changing on you?" he stepped closer, concerned about her.

A faint smile crossed her face. "No. It's just ... I expect it's the company and the stress of getting the house ready."

"It has never bothered you before! Unless ... it's THIS company." He saw the flash in her eyes, and realized there was something about Tom Jones that was making her edgy. If only she would tell him what the problem was! He knew from experience, though, that she rarely talked about her private thoughts and fears. Maybe he could prod her to tell him? "Nanny, what do YOU think of Tom?"

"I hardly have known him long enough to have formed an opinion, have I?" she evaded his question. "Ten minutes is much too short a time!"

"Since when has that stopped you?" he questioned dryly, then pressed, "Do you like what you know of him so far?"

"Why does it matter what I think, Professor? He's your friend ... and a guest in your home ..."

"Nanny! It was just a simple question! According to his college reputation, he bowls most women over at first sight!"

Nanny hesitated, then admitted softly, "Your friend Marrijane and I are on much the same wavelength, I must say, Professor. Goodnight." and she went into her own room and shut the door on further discussion.

The Professor contemplated the closed door thoughtfully. So, Nanny didn't like Tom any more than Marrijane had. He wondered why he felt happy about that. Then he heard the rumble of thunder in the distance and hurried downstairs to get the candles lit before the lights went off.

The two men sat drinking their coffee and visiting, watching the storm from the shelter of the front porch. After exchanging brief stories of what they had been doing since college, the Professor commented that being a reporter obviously suited Tom excellently, as even back in the old days he had been the curious one, ferreting out all kinds of information.

"I haven't changed, Ev," Tom grinned. "And speaking of being curious, I admit to a great deal of curiosity about your nanny, Miss Phoebe Figalilly."

"You and me both," muttered the Professor under his breath.

"So tell me, Ev, how old is she? Where is she from? What all do you know about her background? What family does she have? Perhaps the most important question of all," and he winked at the Professor as he said this, "since I'd never have pegged you for one to install a woman like that in a home with your children, just what sort of thing do you have going with her, anyway, you sly dog?"

The Professor almost choked on his mouthful of coffee. "Not, not a thing!" he finally managed to say. What did Tom mean, a 'woman like that'?

"So you're not interested in her?"

From the satisfaction in Tom's voice and the gleam in his eyes, the Professor knew that Tom himself WAS, despite his derogatory words, and his heart sank. It vexed him that he felt jealousy bubbling through his veins, much as he had felt when Nanny was being courted by Professor Samuelson and even more when her fiancé had appeared on the scene last fall. Since she had sent Cholmondeley away for at least a year, things had settled into an easy pattern in the household, and the Professor had found that he was happier than he had been since his wife's death. Now, with Tom's arrival and obvious interest in Nanny, his life was being disrupted yet again.

"Ev? How old is she?" Tom repeated.

"Old enough to look after the children, and MUCH too young for either of us!" the Professor said shortly, not willing to admit that he didn't know for sure. He began answering the other questions as briefly as possible. "She's from the British Isles, as you can tell from her accent. She has been a nanny and a very skilled one, I might add, in many places all over the world. She comes from a large family, and she is engaged to be married, so she's not available!" he added grimly.

"Well, engagements have been known to be broken," Tom dismissed that information with a wave of his hand. "Naturally I wouldn't encroach on your preserves, old chum, but ... well, since you're not interested, maybe I'll try to breach her citadel. She seems a little on the prissy side, but I'm sure I can overcome that in time."

"Can't we talk about something other than Nanny?" the Professor burst out, almost sickened by Tom's words. What had gotten into the man? He must have imbibed way too much on the plane on the way here! "Tell me about your work in the Middle East! Is it as dangerous for a journalist there as it appears to be?"

For the next hour before they retired for the night, Tom happily talked about himself, and the Professor half listened and half thought about Nanny and her revelation that she agreed with Marrijane's assessment of Tom's character. Was this new side of Tom he was seeing what the two women didn't like? His brashness seemed to be grating more on the Professor tonight than it ever had before. Had the other man behaved this way always, and he had never noticed? Finally, realizing he couldn't solve the puzzle in one night, he ushered Tom upstairs.

Over the next day or two, the Professor realized anew how dependent he had become on Nanny's cheery smile and uplifting chatter, because both were sadly absent. She dressed very conservatively, in dark colours, with none of the light lavenders she usually favoured. Her hair was always pulled back severely in a knot at the back of her head, and the Professor missed seeing the luxurious honey-coloured locks bouncing on her shoulders. Her blue eyes, which usually were filled with laughter and compassion, seemed almost gray. He found himself wondering if she was sleeping properly when he noted the dark shadows under them. Yet he never had a chance to speak with her alone. She seemed to be avoiding both men, even while being exceedingly polite while around them. The joie de vivre, which so characterized her presence most of the time, was missing, and even the children noticed. The Professor overheard Hal say to Butch, "There must be something wrong with Nanny. She's really changed." Butch's answer that maybe it was the wind that had changed made the Professor smile slightly, but his worry didn't abate in the least. It had to have something to do with Tom, but what could it be?

After supper one night, Butch and Hal were excitedly recounting the Human Fly act to an interested Tom. Nanny had disappeared into the kitchen after trying to change the subject. The Professor chuckled and said something about Nanny's colourful old Uncle Alfred and it was as if a lightbulb went on in Tom's eyes.

"Say, kids," Tom said slowly, "any idea whether or not your nanny was ever in Egypt?"

"I know THAT!" Butch said. "She went with Uncle Alfred. Remember she talked about it that night with him? They got to ride on camels!"

"And Nanny liked the purple sails on the river. Her favourite colour is purple, you know," confided Prudence.

"She got to see the Sphinx!" Hal's eyes were wide. "But she didn't say much about that, it was Uncle Alfred who thought that was neat. The Sphinx and the pyramids. I would love to see the Sphinx. Have you seen it, Mr. Jones?"

Tom nodded slowly, and his eyes met the Professor's.

Hal rushed on. "The Sphinx on the Giza plateau is called the Guardian of the Horizon and it symbolizes strength and wisdom. Supposedly there's a rock between its paws that has a story on it!"

"A stela." Tom said softly. "They call it a Dream stela. I've seen it."

"A Dream stela?" Butch and Prudence looked blank.

"The story of a dream a man had is inscribed in hieroglyphics on the rock Hal was talking about," Tom explained. "Supposedly he fell asleep there and dreamt that the Sphinx told him if he would clear away all the sand that was burying its body, he would be king of Egypt."

"Wow!" Butch looked impressed. "I'd dig something like that out if I could be king!"

Tom seemed to be deep in thought, and the Professor eyed him uneasily. Now what was on his mind? Why had the other man asked if Nanny had ever been in Egypt? What was it about the mention of Uncle Alfred that had piqued Tom's interest? Could ... could Nanny and Tom possibly have MET in Egypt? If so, what had happened between them to have Nanny so changed now that Tom was here?

Accordingly, after the children had gone upstairs and Nanny, as usual, had also vanished, the Professor handed Tom a brandy and asked him outright why all the questioning.

"Well, Ev," Tom leaned back on the couch and crossed his legs. "I think Nanny and I met in Egypt seventeen years ago. The woman I knew as Phebe was my age, and we were both easily twenty years younger than the others on the tour out to the Sphinx, so we were thrown together a lot. I fell hard for her. She was a real looker ...actually, if I imagine her with her hair down instead of up, and with brighter clothes, she looks exactly like your Nanny. Which is why I am almost positive it's the same woman. Or her younger double! Anyway, Phebe was travelling with an older man she CALLED her uncle, but the way they were acting, I remember wondering if their relationship was a little closer than that," and he winked at the Professor meaningfully, "although the man certainly seemed old enough to be her father! Anyway, as I said, we were the only two young ones, so we were thrown together quite a bit. Since I was on my own, I was at loose ends and Phebe was always so happy, so delighted with everything and charming so it was no hardship to spend time with her. She watched the old man pretty closely, but he was always pushing her to have fun, to enjoy herself with me. Which, of course, she did. Practically threw herself at me, you might say. She was simply starved for loving and begging to be kissed. You can bet I took advantage of THAT! When we got to the Sphinx, the others decided they didn't want to make the climb down the causeway to go exploring around the base of the Sphinx. Phebe and I headed off, and got to the east side between the paws of the Sphinx. We were looking at the Dream stela, and Phebe astounded me by reading it. I mean, who knew that with all those looks, she had a brain, too? She was something else." he sighed, then continued, "Anyway, it was a real romantic spot, you know? So I did what any normal, red-blooded male would have done in the circumstances."

"Oh?" the Professor didn't really want to hear this part.

"Yup, I kissed her in the shadow of the Sphinx and the taste of her on my lips was VERY intoxicating, you know? She pretended to be shocked, like she hadn't expected it, but it was easy to overpower her. I mean, she's such a bit of a thing. I was all set to carry our interlude to its logical conclusion, seeing as how we were more or less isolated from the others, and how long would it take, anyway? I knew I could overcome her silly objections. After all, she had enjoyed my companionship up until then, so why shouldn't we? But even as I formed that thought in my mind, she somehow slid out of my arms and darned if a sandstorm didn't blow up at that very minute! Next thing I knew, the other tour members appeared as if by magic, milling around and trying to find shelter and in all the confusion, Phebe and I were separated." He was quiet for a minute, as was the Professor, who was happy to hear about the sandstorm if it had stopped Tom. Then Tom continued, "You know, Ev, I STILL find it astonishing how the storm came up so fast and so violently ... and how both Phebe and Uncle Alfred vanished, and no one seemed worried about them or could even remember having seen them when the storm was over!"

"Imagine that!" the Professor commented, but he was sure he knew why, if not how, the storm had appeared. Nanny, he had discovered very early on, always seemed to manage to work things out to her advantage, however illogical that may be.

"At any rate," Tom went on, "I never saw her again. In fact, I had almost but not quite forgotten her, you know? But I remember that kiss. I tell you, Ev, she kisses like a dream! I sometimes wondered if it was. A dream, I mean. Makes sense ... dreaming near the Dream stela. Anyway, she was a beguiling witch, and led me on merrily before disappearing as completely as if she had never existed. None of the pictures I took of her OR the old man ever turned out, you know! Strange, that. But you say your nanny's real name is Phoebe? That's so close to Phebe, she has GOT to be the same girl!"

"You said she was twenty-five like you, way back then!" protested the Professor. "Nanny STILL looks only about twenty-five! It couldn't have been her back then! This is seventeen years later!"

"She looks exactly the same as the girl I remember!" avowed Tom.

"Then your memory has to be a little faulty, Mr. Jones! What are the probabilities of that happening?" the Professor scoffed.

"Well, they can do wonders with plastic surgery now, you know! She always wore her hair down, then ... with just a bit caught up in a bow at the back. I tell you, Ev, it HAS to be her, even if she IS trying to make herself look older now to fool me! Either that, or she really IS a witch and is ageless!" and he chuckled slightly.

Suddenly the memory of Mrs. Fowler's accusation of witchcraft crossed the Professor's mind. Their next door neighbour had vowed to the Professor that Nanny had told her herself that she had worn her hair the same way for centuries, and her darling daughter Francine had a book with Nanny's picture in it for proof. Naturally there had been a logical explanation for such a ridiculous assertion in that case... but witchcraft could possibly explain the age discrep ... the Professor shook his head angrily. What was he thinking?

Then Tom leaned forward, grinning, "Now, be honest, Ev, aren't you bewitched by her as well? Haven't you ever wanted to kiss her? What am I saying? You must have already done it -- a Casanova like you were in college! Aren't her kisses something?"

The Professor laughed, not willing to reveal to the other man that although he had found himself rather unwillingly desiring the beautiful woman who was sharing his home, he had never tried to kiss her, never tried to change their relationship from the easy one of friendly employer/employee to the rocky, much more volatile one of ... lovers. Just the thought took his breath away, and a powerful urge to make that change right away swept over him.

At that moment, Prudence came into the living room. "Nanny said I should come and say goodnight, Daddy."

When the little girl had gone upstairs again, Tom looked at the Professor expectantly. "So, Ev ... are Nanny's kisses as exciting and memorable as Phebe's was?"

Before the Professor could even open his mouth, Hal was at the door of the living room. "Dad? Nanny said you'd help me with the experiment I'm trying to do. Can you come downstairs, please? You can come, too, Mr. Jones, if you want."

For once thankful for Nanny's timely intervention, the Professor got to his feet and followed Hal. He was NOT going to talk about Nanny's kisses, although he was beginning to fantasize plenty about them. As a matter of fact, he was wishing he could think of some way to tell Tom he had overstayed his welcome! Something about Tom's story irked him, and he just wanted to have his house and his family to himself again.

The next morning at breakfast, talk turned to malicious gossip and stories printed in tabloids. Tom seemed to shrug off Hal's assertion that nothing should be printed unless it could be proven. "Sometimes you just want to get a good story, kid," he said, "even if you have to make up something to make it more interesting."

"My uncle Algernon always said that it's not difficult to make a mountain out of a molehill. All you need to do is add a little dirt." Nanny said a little pertly from the sink where she was soaking the porridge pan.

"Huh?" Butch asked.

The Professor couldn't contain his laughter, especially when he saw the annoyed look that Tom threw at Nanny. It was nice to have Nanny seem more herself this morning! If only she would smile again!

"Well, I always say that dirt sells, and that's the business I'm in. Besides, I hate secrecy." Tom grumbled.

"With the tongue wagging going on all over, there can't be too much secrecy." the Professor grinned.

"Tongue wagging?" Prudence piped up. "Like this?" and she stuck out her tongue, giggling.

Butch and Hal laughed.

"Great Aunt Ermentrude often remarked that the tongue must be heavy indeed, because so few people can hold it." Nanny brought the coffee over to the table and refilled the men's cups, not looking fully at either of them.

"Some folks wear their halos much too tight..." Tom muttered, and the Professor saw the flash of emotion in Nanny's eyes before she put the coffee pot down on the table and hurried out of the kitchen, her lips compressed.

"A little harsh, don't you think, Tom?" he murmured.

"Sorry, Ev ... guess I didn't sleep too well, and I'm taking it out on all of you." Tom made an effort to smile, although the Professor noticed his eyes still remained rather cold.

Once again, the desire to ask Tom to leave his house welled up in the Professor. He was just waiting for something definite to give him a good excuse. He wasn't sure he could stand even one more night. What had he ever seen in Tom, anyway? Could someone have changed that much over the years? "So, Tom," he forced himself to ask, "you have a lecture this morning and then you're off until tomorrow night when the final lecture is? What are your plans for your free time? You know, of course, that I'm tied up most of the afternoon today, and all day tomorrow ..."

"Oh, nothing definite in mind," Tom waved vaguely. "I'll see what comes up. Guess I'd better be off. You don't need to go in yet, do you?"

"No. I'll call a taxi for you. I have something I need to finish here. Kids, your bus will be here shortly."

In a very short time, the Professor was alone. He stood at the front door for a second, then heard a sound on the stairs. Looking up, he saw Nanny coming down. Peering at her closely, he realized her eyes were faintly rimmed with red.

"Nanny? What's wrong?" he asked gently as she drew nearer.

"Nothing, Professor," she averted her eyes. "I'll just go in and clean up the kit..."

"Wait." He put out his hand and touched her arm as she hurried past him. She stopped, but didn't look at him. "I heard a rather wild story last night ..." he began awkwardly.

"Shouldn't you get all the facts before jumping to any conclusions, Professor?"

"Precisely what I am trying to do, Miss Figalilly," he said, his voice soft.

Her eyes flashed to his, and he saw the regret and apology in them before she said, "I AM sorry, Professor."

"No, it is I who should be sorry. I know better than to believe all that Tom says. Besides, it couldn't have been you he was talking about anyway. That woman would be much older now. Seventeen years, to be precise!" He looked down at her lovely face and smiled again before turning away and muttering, "Plastic surgery, my eye!"

Nanny watched him leave, and her smile slowly spread across her face. He didn't believe Tom. How thankful she was for that!

Mid-afternoon, Tom arrived back at the house, ringing the doorbell vigorously. Nanny opened the door to him. "Mr. Jones," she said politely. "I have some coffee ready for you in the Professor's office."

"How'd you know I needed it?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he added, "Share it with me ... Miss, uh, Figalilly?"

"I'm afraid I'm much too busy, Mr. Jones."

"I've been wanting to speak with you ... Phebe." he said, daringly.

Nanny said nothing, merely kept a polite, inquisitive expression on her face.

"How'd you do it? The sandstorm, the disappearance ... and not aging!" he asked.

"I beg your pardon?" she looked astonished.

"Don't kid me. You know what I'm talking about." he said, a little gruffly, stepping closer.

"I'm afraid I'm not a mind-reader." she said flatly. "Please excuse me, Mr. Jones, I must attend to supper. The Professor will be home shortly, as will the children, and they'll be hungry." She quickly slipped around him and was gone.

Dumfounded that she had just walked away from him, he stood still for a couple of minutes, then followed her into the kitchen. "Surely you don't treat all of Ev's guests this way!" he scowled at her, planting himself in her path.

"Only the ones who ask for the treatment," Nanny said lightly, sidestepping him yet again and crossing to the refrigerator.

"Tell me, do you admit you have been to Egypt?" he pressed, coming up behind her.

Nanny glanced at him, then moved to the stove and stirred the potatoes. "Many people have been to Egypt, Mr. Jones."

"Call me Tom. You did once ... very lovingly, as I recall." he said, his voice dropping meaningfully.

"I can't imagine forgetting such an occasion." she said, and turned back to the fridge.

Tom cornered Nanny by the fridge, crowding her into the counter as he gripped her upper arms and turned her to face him. "I have a very good memory, even if you don't, and I would know you were the one in the shadow of the Sphinx just by kissing you again ... I KNOW it's you, Phebe ..."

She stood rigid in his embrace as he trailed his hand down her smooth cheek then around the back of her neck. She did not deign to struggle, but when he bent his head to claim her lips, she recoiled somewhat. "The potatoes are getting mushy."

"Wha ...?" Tom looked blank.

Nanny bent back a bit further, twisting to point over at the stove. She needed to buy just a few more seconds of time; the Professor was so close. "The potatoes. The Professor likes them firm, not mushy."

His hands steadied her head in a vise-like grip while his body held hers captive against the counter. A self-satisfied smile spread over his face. "You aren't going to escape me again. I've wanted you for seventeen years, and I intend to have you. As for the Professor's potatoes, frankly, my dear, I don't give a ..." and his lips closed over hers even as she tried to twist away.

Just then, the Professor stepped into the kitchen and stopped dead, dropping his briefcase on the floor. "What the ...?"

Tom jerked at the interruption, and Nanny broke free. The Professor's eyes went from one to the other, then, noting Nanny's clenched fists by her side as she glared at his former roommate, the Professor said roughly, "Tom? Why are you bothering Nanny?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it BOTHERING, Ev." Tom said easily, a bit of a sneer on his lips. "Just like before, the way she was moving against me, I'd say that Phebe was enjoying the experience."

The Professor heard Nanny's outraged gasp, then her quick footsteps as she left the kitchen without a word. "The way I saw her moving against you seemed far from enjoyment. She was struggling to get away. You have to resort to force to make one of your so-called conquests now?" the Professor's voice had a definite edge to it.

Tom shrugged. "Well, Ev, it was definitely worth the effort, because now I'm sure ... your Nanny IS the Phebe I kissed in the shadow of the Sphinx! I've been blessed, or is it cursed, by the memory of her kiss ever since! I said it before and I'll say it again, she kisses like a dream! Perhaps you should try stealing one or two some time, if you haven't already!"

The Professor tamped down on the rage he still felt at the thought of Nanny being manhandled by someone HE had brought into the house! "I think it would be best if you spent the last couple of nights of your stay in a hotel somewhere, Tom. I like to protect my family from unwanted attentions!"

"Your family, Ev?" Tom's lips twisted mockingly. "I thought she was just the nanny. I THOUGHT you weren't interested in her."

Wondering if Tom ever actually thought, the Professor growled, "I consider everyone in my household part of my family." He ignored Tom's last statements. "You've changed, Tom, and I don't like who I'm seeing now. Please, pack your things and leave immediately."

"Now? Before supper?"

"You can't possibly expect Nanny to feed you NOW!" exclaimed the Professor. "In fact, knowing Nanny, your suitcase is already packed and by the front door, and the taxi will be out on the street waiting for you."

Tom looked startled, then said ingratiatingly, "Won't you hear MY side of the story first, Ev, before condemning me without a hearing?"

"Sorry," said the Professor, feeling suddenly happier than he had for days, "I'm just not interested." He motioned for Tom to follow out of the kitchen. Sure enough, the suitcase was in the front hallway and they could hear the taxi horn blast.

"Next time you're in town, Tom," the Professor called after him as the other man grabbed the suitcase angrily and stomped out the door, "don't bother to look me up!"

Hal came in as the taxi left. "Where's Mr. Jones going?"

"To a hotel," Nanny answered from behind the Professor. He turned and looked at her, and his eyes lit up. His nanny was back to normal. Her hair curled most becomingly around her face and shoulders, her smile lit up her face, and the pale lavender blouse set off her glowing blue eyes beautifully. "Thank you," she said softly to the Professor.

"Why's he going to a hotel?" Hal asked.

"I didn't like the way he grew up." the Professor said. "His thinking got distorted."

"Some minds are like concrete, thoroughly mixed up and permanently set." Nanny said serenely.

"But he's a journalist, Nanny!" Hal protested. "He's supposed to be openminded."

"It would be nice, Hal, if all men were more like your fath ..." her voice trailed off, and she glanced over to see the Professor grinning at her.

"A mind like CONCRETE, Nanny?" he teased, a glorious feeling flooding him because she had said it would be nice if all men were more like him. He had to force himself to remember that he was much older than her, and shouldn't be feeling this way about her.

Her face flushed a little, but she tilted her chin somewhat defiantly as Hal shrugged off the mystery and somewhat noisily went downstairs to his lab. "Yes, indeed, Professor. A mind like concrete. So Aunt Henrietta has said often! And I must say, I have found that with some people that it seems quite true!"

"Ah, perhaps you mean some people like, say, Mr. Jones?"

"Exactly, Professor. Exactly."

"I suppose you wouldn't be interested in giving me the short version of your first meeting with Tom, if indeed you ever DID meet him before?" he asked, not holding out much hope that she would actually tell him anything.

"The best way to make a long story short, Professor, is to not tell it all." Nanny said, not looking at him. She wanted to tell him the truth, but she had been so naive seventeen years ago, and still felt the sting of foolishness she had experienced then. It had never occurred to her that Tom viewed her as anything other than a friendly companion. Had he really had tender feelings for her, she might have felt differently about the kiss. However, knowing she was just another conquest and a pastime to break the monotony of the tour had given her the impetus to escape with her pride in tatters but her being intact. She had been as silly as Uncle Alfred had lovingly accused her of being, and she did NOT want the Professor to hear the sad story. It was best that he think it a mystery.

"Uncle Alfred?" he hazarded a guess as to the originator of the quote, conceding her right to keep her secrets.

"Good heavens no, Professor! He likes to string his tales along. No, that was Great Aunt Matilde's favoured adage. She was rather close-mouthed and mysterious, sphinx-like, you might say, unlike many others in the Figalilly clan."

"Except one with whom I am fortunate enough to be acquainted!" He grinned at her startled face until she relaxed and smiled back at him. Then his gaze drifted to her lips, and he couldn't resist adding, "But I have to wonder if Tom is right. DO you kiss like a dream, Nanny?" Her face flushed scarlet, and she was silent. "I suppose I could wait to see if Chumley comes around again and ask him ..." the Professor pondered aloud. "But, as you know, I am an empiricist who likes to be sure of my own facts and do my own experiments." Wordlessly, Nanny stepped back a bit, and he gave a short laugh. "I did say I intended to protect my family and household from unwanted attentions, didn't I? I suppose I should start with myself." His determination to stop thinking of her as anything but a nanny strengthened, although he had the strange feeling that that same resolve could be swept away in an instant were she to even hint at reciprocal affections.

Then he was gone, leaving her strangely disappointed that he hadn't kissed her, and vexed with herself for feeling that way. She was certain that no sandstorm would have been necessary to provide her an escape from the Professor's arms. Were the Professor to be with her in the shadow of the Sphinx, or anywhere else for that matter, she would be content to remain there, close to his heart.


End file.
